by Joanna Hines
‘God knows, Zio Toni, I’ve tried. Luckily she has to go back to Florence tomorrow. Before she goes I intend to break the hold she has over Francesca.’
‘How?’
‘I have one or two ideas, but haven’t yet decided.’
‘Maybe it won’t be necessary.’ She started to speak, but he interrupted her, ‘Enough. I have something to show you, Annette.’
‘Yes?’ Always so eager to please.
‘In this box. Here.’ He dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small key suspended on silk thread.
Her fingertips were caressing the carved lid of the box. ‘Zio, it’s exquisite,’ she breathed. ‘You always have such beautiful things.’
He smiled. The fool. Had she even bothered to look at what the carvings depicted? ‘Thank you, my dear. Now, unlock it for me. I want you to see what’s inside.’
Still smiling, like a child with a Christmas present, Annette fitted the key in the lock and turned it. She pushed back the lid. Inside there was something wrapped in a scrap of faded silk. She raised her eyes questioningly and he nodded at her to go on. She lifted the silk out and let it fall back over her hand, revealing half a dozen small photographs; two or three were old, sepia and curled, the most recent was a faded polaroid. She smiled nervously before laying them out in a fan on the little table that stood between their chairs. And still she smiled, prepared to be delighted by whatever she saw.
Gradually, as she absorbed the contents of the photographs, her smile died away. Disbelief, horror, revulsion… it was gratifying for him to observe the emotions that passed over her face.
She pulled back her hand as though there was acid on the silk. ‘Where did you get hold of them?’ she asked. She was fighting the urge to retch. ‘They’re disgusting!’
‘Why, Annette, I might not be much of a photographer, but all the same…’
‘You mean… you took them?’
‘I did.’ His smile hinted at a modest pride in his achievement.
‘But… who are they?’
‘You want their names? That recent one was a youth called Guido, the girl was Beata, but those early boys and girls… it was wartime. If I ever knew their names, I’ve forgotten them now.’
‘But…’ Rapidly she glanced at the photographs and just as quickly looked away again. Her breathing was light and shallow. ‘Why—why do you keep photographs of corpses?’
‘Souvenirs,’ he said softly. ‘My rogues’ gallery. The road to success. And its fruits. Each one tells a story. Do you want to hear them?’
‘No.’ She was looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes any more. There were more questions, but he knew she would never dare to ask them.
‘Take another look at the one on the left,’ he told her gently, and saw her eyes flicker towards it, nervous as a snake. ‘I took it at Villa Beatrice, in the camerino. That’s where he died. We closed the door and he couldn’t find the way out. Doesn’t he look peaceful? As though he’d just fallen asleep. Chloroform is such a kindly death, I’ve always thought.’
‘Why?’ she whispered.
‘The stupid boy got in my way. He stood between me and the purchase of this house,’ he told her. ‘His brothers had agreed, but without his signature we were powerless. And as you probably know, I do not like to be thwarted. There are others, but these are my favourites. Do you want to see the rest?’
‘No. Don’t show me any more. They make me sick.’
‘Strange,’ he paused, watching her closely, then said quietly, ‘That’s exactly what Francesca said.’
‘Jesus!’ Horror-stricken, Annette was on her feet at once. ‘You showed these pictures to her, too? When? When did you show her?’
‘Calm down, calm down. It was years ago. I forget the exact date, but it must have been before she went to America. I was still living at the Villa Beatrice, so it was five years ago or more. It was a wet afternoon, we were both somewhat at a loose end. I thought my little photographs might amuse her, but unfortunately her reaction was similar to yours. Perhaps stronger.’
Annette was staring at him, her face taut with shock. ‘She never told me.’
‘Of course not. It is easy to make children keep silence.’
‘Why did you do it?’
‘Why? Because I like to share my pleasures. Francesca understands.’
‘So that’s why she attacked you!’
He chuckled. ‘The boiling water, yes. It was a good response. She has learned the value of pain. I appreciated that.’
‘Jesus, no wonder…’ Annette was silent for a moment as a new horror occurred to her. She took a step towards him. ‘Zio Toni, if you ever laid a hand on either of my girls—’
‘Annette, please.’ He interrupted her briskly. ‘What do you take me for? A monster? Those girls are my own flesh and blood. I’d never harm them.’
‘What?’ Her laughter was a bark of disbelief. ‘Never harm—? How can you say that? After what you’ve done to my poor Francesca? You knew how sensitive she was, and you showed her these? My God, you’re sick!’
He chuckled, genuine amusement lighting up his face. ‘Mia cara,’ he said. ‘Consider what you’re saying. I’m not sick, I’m dying.’ His laughter continued until he was seized by a spasm of coughing.
While he was recovering she paced across to the window, then back again. She stood over him. ‘Why did you show me those?’ she asked. ‘Why put such a weapon in my hand? Surely you know I can take them to the police. With evidence like this, I could see you ruined.’
‘Annette, please, show a little intelligence. We both know you’ll never do that. I’ll be dead and buried long before the police even start their investigations and all you’d have to show for your loyalty would be the scandal. Very likely the estate would be forfeited along with my reputation.’ He observed the way her expression altered at the word ‘estate’. He continued, ‘When I’m dead you will quite naturally move swiftly to protect the reputation of your beloved husband’s family and make sure these beauties are all destroyed, and the others which are in the ebony box over there. Five photographs here and seven in the other box. Twelve in all. But thirteen has always been my lucky number. Now, sit down and pay attention.’
She sank down into the chair. ‘Why have you shown them to me? I don’t understand.’
He didn’t answer right away, but fussed with the arrangement of his cashmere shawl. Half an hour ago, Annette would have leapt up to do it for him, but now he knew she could not bear to touch him. He could sense the revulsion emanating from her in waves. Good. The strongest reactions were always the most gratifying.
After a while he said, ‘You are desperate for my estate to go to your family when I die.’
After so many years of circling round each other, it was shocking to have the statement made so baldly. Annette winced. ‘It is your family too,’ she said.
He went on, ‘You’ve wanted it for a long time. I thought first you should know the price that was paid for it.’
She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. ‘You mean the young man who didn’t want to sell?’
‘Him, and others. A bastard like me who comes from nowhere doesn’t get to where I am today without sacrifice, as you of all people know well. The trick is to make sure that others make the sacrifice for you.’ He tapped the nearest photograph with the tip of his index finger and said, ‘It’s not always easy, being ruthless. It costs, you know. This was the price I paid. Are you prepared to pay it too, I wonder?’
She said, ‘You must promise me you will never show these to Simona.’
‘I have not the slightest intention of showing these to Simona. Where would be the pleasure in that? But you have not answered my question.’
‘I’m sorry. What…?’
‘Are you prepared to pay the price?’
‘I—I don’t understand.’
‘You want the Villa Beatrice estate, but how badly do you want it? Do you want it as much as I did? Would you, for instanc
e, be prepared to kill for it?’
‘Kill?’ Her eyes darkened. He remained silent. After a few moments she asked in a low voice, ‘What are you talking about? Kill who?’
‘I thought perhaps the troublesome English girl.’
‘Kate? Francesca’s friend? But what does she have to do with the Villa Beatrice?’
‘Nothing whatsoever, and there’s the beauty of it. She is simply irritating, and… expendable. Look on this project, my dear Annette, as a test, a dying man’s whim. After all, I did not get hold of this glorious estate by simply being charming and well-connected, so why should my heirs be let off so easily? Even you must see there’s no justice in that. I know you desire this for your girls, but are your desires as strong as mine were? Strong enough to make you kill?’
‘Kill?’ She echoed the word dreamily.
‘Yes, kill.’
She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head in disbelief. ‘Zio Toni, stop this madness! What do you expect me to do? Strangle her with my own hands? Find a gun? A knife? Do you want me to take pictures?’ She was almost laughing.
‘Calm down, Annette. You’re getting hysterical. I thought you had more sense than that. No one is suggesting you actually do the deed yourself, unless of course you want to. You may prefer just to give the order. Dino has already shown promise. He’s not too bright, but it’s always good to have a blunt instrument to hand. An accident is usually easiest to cover up, a car crash perhaps, some unforeseen tragedy. I understand they were fooling around on Vespas earlier today—what an opportunity that would have been. But never mind, something else will occur. Now, please sit down, so we may continue.’
‘I wont—’
‘Sit,’ he commanded in a voice he seldom used, and she sat at once. ‘That’s better. Now, let me explain the full situation. Tomorrow the notary comes to make the final amendments to my will. I doubt very much if I’ll survive long enough to change my mind again. For some time, I have been uncertain how to leave the bulk of my estate. As you know, for years I planned to make Francesca my heir, but since she has decided to join these mud people—’
‘They are working for Florence,’ said Annette.
He waved his hand, silencing her. ‘Francesca has turned her back on me. When she attacked me, I could forgive her, but now she has gone her own way… She is no longer part of the equation. That leaves my half-sister’s child Dario, whom I must say I’ve always found a rather contemptible specimen, or your dear Simona. Now, which is it to be? It’s not as if you even like the English girl.’
Annette touched the side of her cheek, then smiled suddenly. ‘Zio Toni, for a moment I thought you were serious! What a horrible kind of joke this is!’
‘I’ve never been more serious.’
The smile faded from her face and she stood up slowly. ‘You really want… And if I say no?’
‘Then the notary will be instructed accordingly. Who knows, Dario may even end up surprising everyone and showing himself a worthy heir.’
‘This is monstrous. You know I could never do such a—’
‘Wait, Annette. Don’t make your decision right away. This has been a surprise for you and you need time to think it over.’
‘On the contrary, Zio Toni—’
‘I repeat, I don’t want to know your decision yet. Come and see me in the morning. Maybe you’ll already have some good news for me. And believe me, Dino is a treasure, discreet and altogether most obliging.’
She bowed her head. Already she looked like an old woman. ‘Is that all?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ He settled back in his chair, more comfortable than he’d been in a long time. She was a good-looking woman and she wore her suffering well. Pain and beauty, beauty and pain, just as it had been all his life. ‘Tell Dino to come in. I will see you again in the morning. Before the notary arrives. Sleep well, Annette.’
She didn’t answer, but left the room slowly, feeling her way with her hands, like a blind woman.
Umberto Bertoni was still smiling when Dino came in with his evening dose of morphine. It was good to know that at least one person was going to sleep worse than him tonight.
Chapter 30
Sleepless
FRANCESCA HAD NEVER LOOKED so beautiful. She was wearing proper clothes again, which helped, in Mario’s opinion, but more than that, it was the happiness she had discovered with the mud angels that made her radiant, even here, at this house she loathed. All her gestures, that used to be so tight and hunched, were now becoming expansive, generous. Reflecting her true self. It made her more desirable than ever. Mario knew he should have left as soon as he’d spoken to Kate, but now it was too late. Just one last evening in Francesca’s company—he could not tear himself away.
She found him on the terrace. He was smoking a cigarette and looking out into the twilight. ‘So that’s where you’ve escaped to,’ she said, in Italian. ‘I wondered where you were.’
‘I thought you were with Simona,’ he said.
‘Oh, Kate’s telling her all about Florence.’ She slipped her arm through his and gave it a squeeze. Mario’s nerves were so strung out he thought he might snap. She said, ‘It’s wonderful to see Simona again.’
‘You saw her at Christmas.’
‘But that was different. I was different then. I guess I was still wounded from the clinic, from all the things people said about me. But now I’m getting stronger, Mario, I know I am, and I can see a future. That changes everything.’
‘Yes,’ he said bitterly, ‘it’s good to have hopes.’
She turned. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’
He knew she didn’t believe him. She said, ‘I guess I owe you an apology. You’ve been so patient through all this and I know… well, it can’t have been easy for you, but I knew you understood…’
‘I’m glad to see you so happy,’ he said wretchedly. And he meant it, every word—so why did it come out sounding stiff and insincere?
‘But you’re angry with me, and I can’t say I blame you. I don’t quite know how to say this but… it’s only because I felt so sure… I mean, about you and me and… well, the future. Even when I was with Kate and the others in Florence, it was like you were… inside me.’ She flushed, then said, ‘Well, beside me, maybe. Just like you were when I was banged up in that hellhole they sent me to. If I hadn’t known that you were there, that you believed in me… well, I would have gone mad, for sure. They could have locked me up and thrown away the key. I suppose what I’m trying to say, Mario, is that I owe all this to you. I—I—’
‘Hush,’ said Mario quickly. ‘Don’t say any more.’
‘But I must. It’s important. We’ve got to get Simona away from here. She has to come back to Florence with me and Kate tomorrow.’
‘You know your parents will never permit it.’
‘Mario, Simona is nearly eighteen. They can’t keep her a child for ever. And look how happy she is with Kate! Even if she came for a couple of days, just to see what our life is like and meet the others, it would make all the difference. Here she’s a prisoner.’
‘Not a prisoner.’
‘You don’t know, Mario. They want her to be “nice” to our uncle. Did you see how my mother kept pushing her at him just now? Ugh, it made me sick to watch them. That’s how it used to be for me: “Why don’t you go and see if Zio Toni wants some company, Francesca? Show him that dance you learned. Sing for him. Make him laugh.” And now they’re doing it to Simona, but I won’t let him get her. The only way I can protect her is to bring her back to Florence with me and Kate. But I’ll need your help. Please, Mario, just this once, trust that I know what I’m doing.’
‘Francesca, don’t ask me…’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not right for me to interfere in your family.’
‘You don’t understand. It’s not…’ She hesitated. ‘I never told you… I couldn’t talk about it before. But I won’t let my uncle get hold of Simona like he d
id me. I’ll kill him before that happens.’
‘Francesca, what are you saying? Your uncle is an old man. He’s dying. How can he hurt Simona?’
‘He’s got… photographs.’ Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.
Mario almost laughed. ‘Mia cara, what harm can photographs do to your sister?’
‘It’s serious, Mario. It’s… the reason I attacked him, because he showed me, wanted to make me a part of it… and it was… horrible.’
‘Francesca, this doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I didn’t tell anyone. I… couldn’t. They were so… bad.’ Her voice had become small, like a child’s. ‘Corpses. He’s got photographs of corpses. And he says he killed them. He tried to tell me how… they died. And… some of them were just children.’
‘My God.’ For a moment Mario was too shocked to say anything else. He remembered the young girl he’d first found weeping on the park bench in Padua. She’d been so vulnerable and innocent, so troubled. In spite of his professional experience, he found it impossible to imagine that a member of her family would have deliberately hurt her. And if it were true, if her uncle really had committed terrible crimes and then recorded them with a camera… the possibility was too horrible to contemplate. Mario knew from his work the power of fantasy. Most probably her uncle had made up those stories to frighten her.
‘Did you believe him?’
‘I didn’t know what to believe. He said some of them died here. In the camerino. It was disgusting, but the worst part was the way he told me. As if he thought I wanted to know. As if I was part of it.’
There was no doubt Francesca had been powerfully affected by her uncle’s actions, and no wonder. ‘Oh, my poor darling.’ Mario had his arms around her, could feel her warmth pressed against him and the beating of her heart. ‘Don’t worry, my Francesca. We’ll think of something.’ His love for her was combined with a fierce rage against her family. There had to be a way to get free of it.
